


Not A Dog Person

by AdamantSteve



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Awkward Phil, Dog Clint Barton, M/M, Secret Relationship, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-23
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-24 09:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/938603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdamantSteve/pseuds/AdamantSteve
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gets transformed into a dog. A dog that's really attached to Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ralkana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/gifts).



 

 

“It’s hot up here, gonna grapple-arrow it.”

Captain America’s voice is sharp and clear over the comms. “Negative, Hawkeye! Maintain position. Iron Man, bring him down safely and take out what you can.” 

Phil switches between CCTV cams to see Clint on the edge of a roof, looking down over the street below. He can see the van he and Agent Hargreaves are currently residing in in the far corner of the screen, hundreds of feet below.

 

“Will do,” Stark’s voice replies, and Phil watches him fly around and up the building til he’s on the roof next to Clint, switching cameras again when he lands. He shoots a couple of pulses with his gauntlet, knocking out a couple of AIM members before putting an arm around Clint. “There’s a little foot hold thing,” he says, putting out one leg before a tiny ledge pops out of the side like a bike pedal. “Hop on.” 

Clint’s securing his bow and Tony’s shooting at people off to one side, so neither of them notice the door to the stairwell of the building they’re on opening and the barrell of a gun pointing out. “Hawkeye! Iron Man! 12 o’clock!” Phil says sharply into his comm unit. 

 

They both turn and see it at once, but start to move in opposite directions - Clint tries to fall to the ground, but Iron Man’s unmoving arm is still around his waist and he tries to fly up to the left, the net result being Clint falling forward instead and taking a full hit of whatever it is that gets shot in their direction. 

 

The black and white of the camera feed goes white, there’s the sound of gunfire and Iron Man’s gauntlet and then the sharp barking of a dog. 

“Iron Man, Hawkeye, report,” says Steve, and Phil sits and stares at the screen while Hargreaves switches cameras. 

 

Tony Stark is uncharacteristically lost for words as Phil pushes Hargreaves away and frantically switches between cameras himself. “I...” 

“Hawkeye?” Cap says.

Phil manages to find a new camera that slowly pans over to the building Clint was on, the slumped bodies of some AIM agents and Iron Man stepping gingerly away from a huge angry dog that is barking wildly.

 

“He’s... he’s turned into a dog?”

“Stark, did you say Hawkeye’s turned into a dog?” Phil can see Steve on a different screen, ducking and weaving away from the uncoordinated moves of the assorted AIM agents around him. He tosses his shield and takes out four of them before catching it, jogging in the direction of the building. 

The dog keeps barking and Phil can hear it snarling over Tony’s radio before the video comes back online of the camera with the better angle. Standing across Clint’s bow and empty clothes is a huge dog that looks like a really big, really furious labrador, barking and snarling in Iron Man’s direction but clearly unwilling to leave it’s position. 

 

Phil watches as Tony holds out a powered down but still be-gloved hand towards the dog, which keeps barking and baring it’s teeth. 

“Hey buddy, if you’re who I think you are I don’t know why you’re so mad,” Tony says, flipping his faceplate back. Phil can’t do anything more than watch as the dog pounces, barely getting deflected by Tony’s arms as it appears to go right for the face. 

 

There’s a cacophony of swearing and shouting across the channels and the dog jumps away from Stark and onto another AIM agent on the floor behind him, pinning the man and pressing it’s jaw against his neck. Stark realises what’s happened, turning around and stunning the guy with a blast from his gauntlet. He stops struggling and the dog barks once before disappearing down into the building over the slumped body of whoever it was that shot him. 

 

-

 

They sweep the building and can’t find the dog, which everyone’s now pretty convinced Clint got turned into. There’s no other sign of him, all his communicators still in the pockets of his suit which is now in a heap in the back of the van along with his bow and quiver. Phil nurses a cold cup of coffee, feeling pretty useless while Sitwell takes over debrief, shaking his head and muttering ‘fucking magic’ to himself though noone’s sure that’s even what it was. Who knows with AIM? Who knows with SHIELD? When did Phil’s life turn into such a complicated mess? 

 

Cap gets Phil a new coffee, and Phil makes a conscious decision to chug it and get himself back in the game. If they’re going to find Clint and work out what the hell happened, and hopefully (god, _hopefully_ ) fix this, he needs to stop freaking out. 

 

“R&D have the gun,” Steve’s saying to one side of Phil, crammed into the tiny van where monitors show agents still poring over the rooftop. “And there’s a couple AIM people in holding. Nat -- Agent Romanov is with them now.” Phil almost misses the hesitation on her name, but it shakes him out of the reverie he’s stil in, even with the way his throat’s smarting from hot coffee. Is _everyone_ fucking? 

 

He barely stops himself from being an ass and saying that out loud, but then Tony, who’s been chattering away to Sitwell beside the van throughout the whole exchange suddenly stops talking. Everyone looks out in the direction Tony’s staring, and there’s the dog again, peeking out from an alleyway that’s already been checked a half-dozen times. It’s not a labrador, it’s face too wide and flat, but it doesn’t seem to be any other type of dog either. It has thick gold-brown hair akin to that of a german shepherd and pointed ears, but a flatter face like that of a bullmastiff or a pitbull. The silver glint of dogtags catch in the light as it slowly creeps forward, ears down flat, tail low, and Tony flips his faceplate down before moving to stand infront of the assorted agents and superheroes gathered around the van. 

 

“Easy, doggy,” he says, voice metallic and distorted. Phil steps out of the van and moves so he can see properly, and the dog, once it catches sight of him, barks once before loosening it’s gait and trotting over to sit at Phil’s feet. 

 

Phil blinks at it and the dog blinks back, and there’s some kind of shrug to the way it looks at him with deep brown eyes before folding it’s front paws and laying down on the ground. Everyone’s staring at the dog and at Phil who does his own shrug. 

 

“Uh, that dog tried to eat my face,” Tony reminds everyone through the suit with his hands on his hips. 

“Yeah, Phil,” Steve says, still half in the van. “I don’t know if it’s safe to-” he comes closer and the dog’s back on it’s feet, darting quickly to stand between Phil and Steve and growl, a low, menacing sound made moreso by the sharp teeth it’s baring. Steve steps back and the dog sniffs and sits down again as if nothing had happened. 

 

Phil clears his throat to break the stunned silence and the dog’s ears swivel and it turns around again to come lay at Phil’s feet. 

 

“So, he seems to like you,” Sitwell says helpfully. “Wonder why that is.” 

Phil swallows but doesn’t say anything. This is bad enough as it is. 

 

“Clint?” Phil tries, and the dog jumps up again and everyone flinches. But it just looks at Phil eagerly as if waiting instruction. 

Phil shrugs. He’s been doing that a lot today. 

“Can you... tell us anything? Bark once for yes, twice for no?” 

The dog tips it’s head and stays standing. 

“Uh. Sit?” 

The dog does it’s not-shrug and lays down. 

“Can you get in the van?” 

Steve moves out of the way and the dog gets up and hops into the van to stand atop Clint’s clothes.

 

“Should we call animal control?” Asks Steve. 

Phil’s shaking his head before he’s’ even worked out what to do. “No. Tony’s sure the dog _is_ Clint. I don’t... wanna aggravate him any more. Maybe we can get him to a veterinarian?”

“Bruce’ll look him over,” Tony says. “Plus all of Clint’s stuff is at the tower too, so he’ll have somewhere to go.” 

 

Phil nods and heads for the van, though the dog growls at the agent that gets into the driver’s seat til he leaves. “It’s like that? Really?” 

The dog just looks at him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce investigates, Phil settles in, Clint's still a dog

 

 

Bruce gets the growl treatment when he examines Clint, but there’s no wounds he can find. They try bringing in Dr Rhys from the Bio-Tech division of SHIELD but she’s barely in the room before Clint’s barking at her like mad. He seems only to approve of Phil and later Natasha when she comes home from interrogating AIM ‘weenies’, and will tolerate Steve, Bruce, Tony, Sitwell and a few other agents human-Clint’s actually worked with for a while. Everyone else gets the terrifying guard-dog version. 

 

“There’s nothing to find,” Bruce admits in the end. “We’ll know more about his DNA and biological makeup soon, but there’s no wounds, ballistic or otherwise. Radiation readings are normal. There’s no overt sign of... humanity per se, but again, I’m not an expert in animal behaviour.” 

 

Clint pushes his head into Phil’s hand and flops onto the table next to him. Phil pets his soft fur absently while he tries to think of anything else they can do. “Maybe get him something to eat?” Bruce suggests. The dog looks up hopefully and Phil narrows his eyes at him. “No humanity?” 

Bruce chuckles. “Well, like I said, not an expert.” 

 

-

 

Phil’s been in Clint’s apartment in the Avengers tower before, more often than is common knowledge, in fact, and never under such strangely dispassionate circumstances as these. Jarvis opens the door for him, evidently having been informed of Clint’s current predicament. As soon as it opens, Clint darts in and the bathroom door slams behind him, leaving Phil to place the bag containing his clothes on the coffee table. There’s a series of crashes and bangs that filter out of the bathroom before the chain flushes. Phil sits heavily on the couch and puts his head in his hands. What a day.

 

Evidently, Clint can’t re-open the bathroom door, and starts whining and scratching at it from the inside. Phil gets up and opens it to find... nothing. “So you can take a crap in the toilet, _flush_ the toilet, but you can’t bark once for yes and twice for no?” 

Clint snuffs and trots out past Phil’s legs, headed for the kitchen, scratching at the door of the fridge. Phil follows and pulls out packets of ham, cheese, chicken, butter, and Clint only stops whining when he puts it all back into the fridge and finds a can of hot dogs in the cupboard. 

As soon as the can’s open, Clint’s nabbed one right out of Phil’s hand which gets eaten in one huge mouthful. Phil holds out another which gets the same treatment, followed by the rest, one by one. Then another can. 

 

There’s a knock at the door and Natasha comes in, hair in a towel. Clint bounds out to meet her and is rewarded with a laugh and some head scratches. “How’re you doing?” She asks, sitting at the breakfast bar and grabbing one of the acid green apples Clint keeps on the kitchen counter just for her. 

 

Phil takes a deep breath. “I don’t even have an answer for that. Was it really obvious?” 

“You and Clint?” She considers it for a moment. “Nah, you’ve always been pretty close, and you’re usually his handler on missions. If he was gonna go to anyone it would’ve been one of us and I wasn’t even there. Your pointlessly secret secrets are safe.” 

“Tasha.” She raises and eyebrow and Phil sighs. “What if he can’t come back?”

“I’m pretty sure, if nothing else, a certain quasi-deity might owe both of you a favour you can cash in. But the techs are good, and AIM usually have pretty good records. We’ll figure it out. Won’t we?” She directs the last question at Clint, who’s been watching their conversation from next to Natasha’s stool, closing his eyes happily when she rubs his ears. His tail makes a slapping sound as it wags against the floor. 

“Eat something,” she reminds Phil as she gets up, putting her un-marked apple into his hand. 

 

She leaves, and Phil doesn’t even get the chance to interrogate her about what she’s playing at with Steve. He really is off his game. 

 

-

 

Phil’s never had a dog. His parents had a cat, which kept itself to itself most of the time and certainly didn’t have any of the rather clingy tendencies that Dog-Clint’s suddenly grown. He’s not sure if he’s fed him enough or too much, or if he ought to take him for a run. He puts a bowl of water down and Clint laps at it messily for a while before looking at Phil hopefully again. 

He looks up ‘Dog Sitting 101’ while he feeds Clint slices of ham, frowning down at him afterwards. “No more ham,” he declares, closing the packet and trying not to heed the pathetic whine the dog makes. Phil yawns and stretches, and isn’t sure if he should stay over or not, but when he goes by the front door to get the phone out of his jacket pocket, Clint starts barking until he backs away from it. 

 

He’s too exhausted to argue with something that can’t argue back beyond barking or whining so follows the dog into the bedroom.

 

There’s a gash in the plaster above Clint’s bed from the last time Phil was in here, a particularly rigorous session that saw the brass finial on the bedstead get bent and cause a dent. It was only afterwards they’d realised what had happened, and only the soundproofing throughout the tower that had meant no one asked after the noise. 

 

Clint hops onto the bed and gently tugs at Phil’s trouser leg before being batted away. He changes into some of Clint’s pajamas and lays down, putting his tablet away when Clint keeps putting his head in the way of the screen. Once he’s done that, Clint stands over Phil, looking at him expectantly. 

“Clint, I don’t even know what you want. And frankly, I’m a little scared of your teeth being so close to my face after what I saw on that roof.” 

Clint lays down on Phil’s chest, but he’s too heavy so Phil prods him gently til he curls up beside him instead. He strokes the soft hair on Clint’s ears. “I hope we can get you back soon,” he says quietly to the dog’s dark eyes as Jarvis slowly lowers the lights.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil's suit is ruined, Clint eats dogfood, they go to the park

There’s a brief moment between sleep and wakefulness in which Phil realises he’s in Clint’s room again, and his not-quite-there brain (lulled into a false sense of security) tingles with I-guess-I-had-sex-last-night happy feelings til he opens his eyes and remembers what actually happened. He didn’t have sex with Clint. Clint’s not in the kitchen making breakfast. Phil’s suit isn’t strewn around the -- Phil’s suit isn’t where he left it last night, hanging neatly on a peg on the door of Clint’s closet. The hanger’s there, but the suit… 

 

Phil’s suit, shirt and tie are in a crumpled pile on the end of the bed. Covered with dog hair.

 

Oh.

 

“Clint?” Phil calls out, slipping his legs out of bed to find a pair of slippers he's never seen before. He blinks at them before slipping them on and standing up. “Clint?”

There’s the sound of claws scratching on hardwood floor as Clint bounds in, jumping up at Phil excitedly with a yap and toppling Phil back onto the bed. “Easy there! Easy!”

 

Clint yaps again and darts about infront of Phil, tail wagging furiously, the very picture of an excited, happy dog. Phil’s torn between wanting to play with the ridiculous animal and being annoyed at the state of the only clothes he has to wear. He stands up again and points at the heap of furry fabric. “What is this? Did you do that?”

The dog’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and he sits to slap his tail against the floor. 

“Why am I asking if you did it? I know you did it. I don’t see any other blonde dogs around here.” 

 

Phil shakes his head at himself and pulls his completely creased jacket free of the jumble to see if it’s salvageable. “Clint,” the dog looks at him and keeps on wagging it’s tail. “What am I supposed to wear?”

They look at each other for a minute but Phil garners no useful information, shaking his head again before heading for the bathroom. He has to shoo the dog out to close the door and can hear him whining occasionally outside while he goes about his morning routine. It’s very distracting. 

 

When he comes out in a bathrobe, the suit has migrated to the floor outside the bathroom and Clint seems to be trying to lay it out flat. He looks up at Phil hopefully, or what Phil thinks is a look of hope, before going back to standing on one leg of Phil’s trousers and tugging at the hem with his teeth. A smile slowly spreads across Phil's face as he watches, and soon he’s laughing and crouching down to stroke Clint’s fur. Easily distracted, Clint pushes his head into Phil’s chest and Phil wraps his arms around him, stroking all the while. He leans back to ruffle Clint’s ears and kiss him on the top of the head. “You’re definitely Clint alright.”

 

Jarvis informs them that there are some specially ordered supplies waiting in the hallway for them, which turn out to be all manner of dog food, raw and cooked meats, some chew toys, a dog bed and a leash and collar. 

 

They both eye the bags suspiciously. Phil’s already pretty sure Clint’ll turn his nose up at the bones and the dog food, but the bed is purple and has tiny arrows printed on it (because Tony Stark truly does have a guy for everything) and after sniffing at it for a moment Clint gingerly stands in it before turning around a few times and sitting down. From there, he stretches his head out to grab a rawhide bone which he places next to him before picking it up and placing it in another spot. Then he stands up and moves it again. “Yeah?” Phil says. The dog looks at him and doesn’t nod, but Phil gets the sense that a nod is implied. Then he shakes his head at himself yet again. This is all very strange.

 

Clint turns his nose up at the dogfood at first, but comes back to it after trotting back to look at his bed, gingerly tasting a bite before wolfing down all that’s there and licking the bowl. Phil chuckles and puts a little more down. He can tell Clint’s embarrassed, which is kind of adorable. He's never considered himself a dog person before but he feels like he's fast becoming one. 

 

Phil eats breakfast (a regular person breakfast) and puts things away. He puts the dog bed in the corner of the bedroom and then Clint drags it closer to the side of the bed before standing in it to make sure Phil doesn’t try to move it again. “it’s your apartment,” Phil tells him, “you can sleep wherever you want,” but Clint seems to have taken to the little round thing.

 

 Phil finds some of Clint’s clothes to wear - gym pants and a tshirt, but can’t bring himself to wear his smart shoes with them despite having nothing else to wear. Clint’s feet are two sizes larger than Phil’s so he determines to ask Bruce if he has some spare trainers he can borrow, realising that Clint has pilfered his socks and is trying to hide them behind the bone in his little bed. 

“You’re a kleptomaniac, you know that?” Phil says, but he doesn’t really mind about his socks that much. 

 

Phil puts the suit on it’s hanger again and frowns at it; he's not sure it’s salvageable. He grabs the leash and the collar and, feeling completely out of place in this get up, takes Clint down in the elevator to the communal floor. 

 

Bruce, Natasha and Tony are littered about the living room absorbing various kinds of news on various devices. Tony warily puts the kitchen island between himself and the dog whilst Natasha smiles and puts a hand out, which Clint runs happily towards for ear rubs and head pats. 

“Good night’s sleep?” Bruce asks. 

“Actually,” Phil realises, “I slept pretty well, all things considered.”

“What about this guy?” Natasha scratches Clint’s chin and his tail slaps against the side of the couch. 

Phil holds up his sorry looking clothes. “ _He_ slept on my suit.” 

“I knew it,” says Tony. “He’s a monster.” 

“You know he was going for the guy behind you, right?” Bruce reminds him. Tony frowns and stays put. “Hmm.”

“Thank you for the things you sent up,” Phil says. “He seemed to really take to the dog bed.” 

“it’s the least I could do,” Tony says. “I should’ve gotten us out of the way.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Phil replies. “Things happen.” It’s the same thing he’s said to countless operatives, but the words feel a little hollow now. 

“It’s-” Tony stops and stares. “Are those my slippers?”

 

-

 

Tony lends Phil some sneakers and they watch Jarvis’ footage of Clint sneaking onto the communal floor via the service stairway and finding Tony’s slippers under one of the sofas. He searches around a little more before grabbing the slippers again and trotting back to the stairs. The four of them watch while Clint looks around before pausing to pee on the wall of the stairwell on the way back up to his floor.

Tony gasps in horror. “Clint!” Phil cries. Natasha laughs. 

“If it turns out you’ve peed on any soft furnishings,” Tony says in warning. Clint looks innocent but it fools no one. 

 

Clint, Phil and Natasha head for the park close to Stark Tower. They don’t put a leash on Clint til they spot two cops leaning against a squad car drinking coffee, but Clint allows Phil to slip on the collar without any fuss, which has Natasha arching an eyebrow in Phil’s direction. 

“Shut up,” he says. 

“I didn’t say anything.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” 

 

They stop by a dry cleaner who looks pretty disgusted at the state of Phil's suit before getting to the park. Phil crouches down to meet Clint's eye. "I know you understand some of what I'm saying, so listen. I'm gonna let you off the leash, but you can't leave the park and you have to come back, ok?" 

The dog just stares and wags it's tail, vibrating with excitement. Phil has no idea if he understood a thing. With trepidation, he unclips the leash and Clint darts off and away. Phil glances at Natasha and she nods in the dog's direction. Phil looks back to see Clint standing in the distance, looking back at them before running even further to stop and look back again. After a minute of this, he runs all the way back before doing it again.  

 

They find a bench to sit and watch Clint run to and fro from. It's almost pleasant, Phil thinks. 

"He's in love with you you know." 

"Nat."

"What? It's true. Look at him."

"Whatever. And don’t think you’re getting away without talking about-" 

"Clint!" Natasha stands and waves a ball in the air. The dog comes bounding over while Phil frowns at her.

 "Lazy," he accuses. 

Natasha ignores him in favour of making a fuss of Clint and throwing the ball for him. 

"Steve's fine," she says eventually. "I'm not going to do anything."

She won't meet Phil's eye though, and she's far too good a liar for that to be accidental. 

"Just. Do me a favour?" Phil says. She looks a t him blandly. "Play whatever games you want to, but be nice?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." 

 

-

 

There's a call from the labs with results of Clint's DNA and other bloodwork. His DNA is as it always was: human. "Magic?" Phil asks, and the tech on the other end supposes it must be. Of course. "Goddamn magic," Phil grumbles. 

 

There's some good intel that's come out of the AIM agents that were taken in, but it's all in code which is taking a lot of time to pick through and translate into anything workable. Tony and Bruce are both working on it whilst Foster and Selvig are trying to link up with Thor and co for more help on the magic front. 

 

They pick up Phil's suit which costs almost as much as a new suit after all the hair and drool and teeth marks have been removed and head back for the tower. Clint's evidently a little sleepy and he curls up in his bed along with the ball he chased all the way around the park while Phil pulls up the files. Natasha disappears and reappears an hour later with a half-dozen of Phil's suits and abag full of other things from his apartment. 

"This doesn't get you off the hook, you know," he says. She just taps him on the cheek like she always does when he tries to stop her from doing something. "Stop sullying my childhood hero!"


	4. Chapter 4

 

The next day, Phil’s woken up by Clint jumping onto the bed and pressing his wet nose under his chin. He blearily pushes him away to an indignant whine before relenting, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. 

Phil goes to the bathroom with the sounds of dog whines outside the door and gets a reproachful look when he re-emerges, freshly shaved and slightly more awake.

 

Clint wolfs down some dogfood again, self-consciously facing away from Phil when he does it, which makes Phil think of Clint’s snorting derision at Phil’s love of Little Debbie cake products. He’s quite a snob about some things in a way Phil can’t quite grasp, which he thinks might be borne of his childhood and years of not being able to choose anything but the cheapest and most plentiful. He politely doesn’t watch Clint eat and determines not to make fun of him when this is all over.

 

“I miss you making coffee,” he mutters as he starts the far too fiddly process of making coffee for himself. It isn’t _that_ much effort, but once the carafe starts to bubble and fill the room with the scent of wakefulness, the sense of ‘Clint isn’t here’ suddenly makes Phi’s heart ache. 

 

He looks sadly at the dog and sits on one of the tall bar stools by the kitchen island, scratching behind Clint’s ears when he comes to sit between Phil’s knees and stare balefully up at him. Maybe they should just tell everyone, Phil thinks. If, of course, Clint ever goes back to how he’s supposed to be. All Phil can think about is how desperately he misses _Clint_ , the warm, dark smell of his coffee so tied to the sense-memory of Clint’s arms sliding around Phil’s waist and lazily nipping at the back of his neck. 

Phil eats a breakfast of scrambled eggs which remind him of Clint as well, and are rubbery and flavourless compared to the light, fluffy perfection of what Clint makes for him when he stays over. Everything reminds him of Clint, as well it should since it’s Clint’s apartment, but it’s unbearable. Phil puts the microwaved egg-covered bowl in the sink to soak and takes a deep breath. “We are men of action,” he tells the dog, who wags his tail and pricks up his ears. Phil wonders if Clint understands him or not. 

 

He takes Clint down to the labs where Tony’s napping lightly on the couch in the corner of Bruce’s main lab with his head on a snoring Thor’s meaty thigh. 

“When did he get in?” Phil asks Bruce quietly, who looks up, startled in the way of someone completely absorbed in what they’re doing. 

Bruce glances at his watch and then blinks, surprised at the time. Phil can only assume he’s been working flat out, and he’s more grateful than he can express. “At about four this morning.” He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t realise how late it had gotten.”

Phil knows that they’d have let him know if there’d been anything of use discovered yet, but is still disappointed that there’s not a vial of something or a ray gun to zap Clint back to his usual self. “Anything?” he asks. 

Bruce blinks and flips a few pages of his notebook (his use of physical pen and paper never ceases to stick in Stark’s craw. It’s one of the many reasons Phil likes him) and taps his finger on a set of equations that are meaningless to Phil. “Maybe,” he says, and he starts to elaborate before breaking off with a huff of laughter directed at himself. “Sorry, I’m… I’ll tag Tony back in and get some rest. I think we might have something but it’s not exactly…” He trails off again and then shakes his head. “Bed.” 

 

Clint warily eyes everyone as Thor and Tony are gently prodded awake. Tony demands a bushel of coffee ‘whatever a bushel is’ from JARVIS and listens intently to Bruce as he goes over his notes from while he was asleep. JARVIS announces that Jane Foster should be up shortly and has found some interesting things in the books Thor brought with him on his return to earth, and after a brief good morning kiss with Thor, joins in with the little gaggle of scientists as they share their findings. They all seem hesitantly positive so Phil takes that as a welcome sign, though he’s very aware of Clint brimming with energy by his feet and feels like he might bark or snap at one of the others at any moment. 

 

Thor very slowly, telegraphing his moves, bends to let Clint sniff his hand before gingerly rubbing the top of his head. As he does it, Clint seems to stop buzzing with energy and relaxes. Apparently Thor’s Prince Charming thing stretches to communing with animals. He shrugs in answer to Phil’s unasked question. “He _knows_ we’re none of us a threat,” he says. “But it can be hard to truly believe such a thing.” 

Phil’s long known Clint has trust issues but he hadn’t thought they would extend to his teammates. He looks at Clint as he takes a deep breath and then swallows, unsure of quite how to broach the subject of the other people who might have some useful input on the issue at hand. 

 

For all his usual brash, loud demeanor, Thor’s more sensitive to things than others give him credit for. Still petting Clint’s head, he says quietly, “I spoke with my brother.”

He straightens up and looks at Phil with sadness in his eyes. The last Phil heard, Loki was in custody in Asgard, and he knows from past interactions that Thor’s not exactly happy about the situation. “Yes?” he replies simply. He has his own issues with the person who would have seen him meet his end but ignores the phantom twinge he feels across his faded scar. 

 

Thor turns to the window. “He is… difficult. But he knows that he owes a debt and for all his snakelike ways he is a man of a certain kind of honour.” 

Phil’s not sure what that means, but Thor says it with a firmness in his voice that suggests it means Loki will come through for them if there’s no other option. 

Clint pushes his head into the hand hanging at Phil’s side. 

 

“We’ll see what happens,” he shrugs. 

 

-

 

They go to the park again, just Phil and Clint this time. Natasha’s nowhere to be found til they get to the park and Phil can see her and Steve jogging in the distance. Clint bounds in their direction before excitedly jumping up at her. Maybe it’s Phil’s imagination, but he’s pretty sure Clint’s purposely trying to separate them. The three of them jog over to Phil, who sits and waits on a bench with a cocked eyebrow.

 

“Hi, Phil,” she puffs, cheeks rosy. It’s a chilly morning and she’s wearing next to nothing. Steve’s cheeks are rosy too, though Phil’s pretty sure it’s not from the exercise or the weather. He offers his usual smart handshake and friendly smile, but there’s definitely an air of teenager-this-close-to-getting-a-slap-on-the-wrist about him. 

 

Phil ignores everything as best he can (but really, Natasha, of all the _people_ ) and fills them in on the various developments. Natasha tells Phil of the findings from HQ, which aren’t much more than they were yesterday. The gun hasn’t turned up anything of use and nor have the captured AIM agents. It seems they were for the most part working on dribs and drabs of information and that the leader of them all is somewhere unknown even to them. 

 

Clint finds a ball and pushes it into Steve’s hand, which is incongruous with his behaviour towards him from before but Phil suspects it might be to remove him from the presence of himself or Natasha. Once they’ve loped off together, Natasha joins Phil on the bench.

 

“Someone’s jealous,” she says, and then looks as innocent as she can when Phil turns to narrow his eyes at her. 

“You’d better mean Clint.”

“I do.”

 

There are more important things to think about right now, like having to ask Loki for help and how that’s the absolute last thing Phil would ever want to do in his life, and how he’s terrified that he’s never gonna get to see Clint again, and how he’s worried about the plants in his apartment, but all he can focus on is, “That bra doesn’t look very supportive, Romanov.” 

“It’s not. Darcy lent it to me.”

“Darc- Jesus.” 

Natasha laughs and puts a hand on Phil’s shoulder. It feels better than anything’s felt for days. 

“Nat,” Phil says, and he’s suddenly fighting tears that’ve sprung from absolutely nowhere to make his vision blurry and his face hot. He looks out at where Steve’s throwing a stick and Clint’s tossing a ball in his direction at the same time as gunning for it, but they’re out of focus and then tipping as Nat pulls him over to wrap him in a hug. 

She’s small and her arms are like twigs, but it’s a bear hug all the same, warm and loving. Phil sinks into it and holds on tight. He leaves two wet blobs of saltwater on her shoulder when they part, but she doesn’t say anything, just smiles when Phil frowns and says she’ll catch her death of cold if she doesn’t put a jacket on. And some full length jogging bottoms. The thick ones, mind, not yoga pants. 

 

He takes a deep breath and they watch Steve run about happily with Clint for a while. Phil sneaks a glance at Natasha and there’s a warm sort of fondness about her gaze as she looks on which swiftly turns harder when she catches Phil looking. He joshes her and makes her roll her eyes. There are goosebumps on her skin and Phil isn’t sure if her whole little show is for Steve or just as an elaborate distraction for Phil _through_ Steve. Either way, he loves her for it. 

 

Steve seems to sense that they’re done talking and makes his way back with a panting Clint. Natasha rubs her arms around herself (and Steve practically goes crosseyed trying not to stare at her squeezed together boobs) and asks if she can borrow his sweater. He obliges of course, and once Natasha’s pulled it on and Steve’s standing there in nothing but low slung running shorts and a too-tight, sweat-damp tshirt, she smirks behind his back at Phil as if to ask _Happy now?_

 

Perhaps love is too strong a word.

 

They’re having lunch together at one of the places only Natasha ever seems to find - tiny and quiet but surprisingly perfect (much like her, Phil muses as he polishes off the most delightful piece of quiche he’s ever eaten) when Phil’s phone chimes. His fork clatters to the floor as he answers it in a rush, and he catches Nat’s look of consternation at his unusual clumsiness. He truly is off kilter.

 

It’s Bruce, with some commotion in the background that sounds like it might be Jane and Tony arguing, which can only mean that Thor’s gone off to fetch Loki.

“But I thought you said there were developments?”

“There-” there’s a crash and then a short pause as Bruce moves somewhere quieter. “There have been, but it’s slow going and it… Honestly, Phil? As a man of science it goes against pretty much everything I know, but magic really might be the best option here. Certainly the quickest. There doesn’t appear to be anything coming from those agents that were captured and we do seem to have run aground with all the samples we’ve taken.”

 

Phil takes a deep breath and hears Tony saying something muffled which he can’t make out. Bruce hems and haws before coming back. “ETA for Loki is an hour from now on the helipad on top of the tower. Fury’s given the OK already and - “ he breaks off again and then Tony’s on the line instead. 

“Agent, we’re all pretty anxious that Daddy Issues isn’t around for any longer than necessary so I’m sending a car over to pick you up.” He hangs up after that, and Phil blinks down at his phone before looking at Natasha and Steve and Clint, all sitting watching him and waiting for an explanation.


	5. Chapter 5

The helipad is adorned with a variety of instruments and weapons, and when Phil arrives, Natasha and Steve are already waiting alongside Tony and Bruce, each in their usual combat uniforms. Jane is quietly talking with Pepper by a small fainting couch that’s there presumably if someone faints or has to sit down. There’s a pile of what look like blankets and clothes on one end of it that Phil realises he hadn’t even thought of. Usually it would be Phil to work these sort of things out, plan all the details of missions. He can only presume Pepper and the others thought of everything and is once again consumed with gratitude.

 

Fury’s deep in conversation with Maria by a version of the ridiculous gun Phil affectionately thinks of as the Hail Mary Machine, and when he appears with Clint - in a collar and leash in case he bolts - they all turn to look at them both. Phil’s not sure what he’s meant to do. He’s meant to be Clint’s handler. And friend, perhaps, but nothing more. Nothing as much as he is, anyway. Now he sees them all looking at him with a certain shade of pity in their eyes and he’s not so sure they don’t all know exactly why he’s as much of a wreck as he is.

 

He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t already completely consumed with concern over Clint. And Loki! He’s scared, which isn’t something he feels often, not true, primal this-might-kill-me fear, but the fear isn’t even his own, he’s more concerned for Clint at Loki’s return. As much as Loki fucked everything up for Phil, he obliterated Clint. 

 

They don’t talk about it very much, but there’s a certain sort of kinship that’s grown out of their shared experience with Loki. A sense of understanding where other people can’t possibly know what it means to be as undone as both of them were. 

 

Phil stands tall and stiff, pulling the mask of everyman Agent around himself like he’s done countless times before. Everyone else congregates around them aside from Tony, hovering nervously in his suit in the air around the perimeter. 

 

Phil’s not sure if Clint knows what’s going on exactly, though he did relay the information to him in the car. The dog just sits by his feet quietly and waits like everyone else. 

 

It’s been long enough that Tony cracks something about how they ought to have had this thing catered when there’s Thor’s trademark clap of thunder and a streak of lightning hits the helipad. Then there they are, Thor in his billowing, impractical cape and Loki by his side. Loki’s hair is as slick and black and perfect as ever, and the green and gold of his clothes are as glittery and beetle-like as Phil remembers, but there’s a sallowness to his skin and something about him seems smaller. _Good_ , Phil thinks.

 

As soon as the wind dies down Phil realises Clint, who he’d expected to flip out when he realised Loki was back, is silently shaking by his feet. His tail is low but not between his legs, and after a moment of thinking Clint’s terrified, he realises when the lead jerks his arm forward that he’s actually brimming with rage. There’s a low, menacing growl coming from him that appears to startle Loki for a moment before his usual cocksure, shit-eating grin slides onto his face.

 

“Oh how apt,” he says with a laugh. “Your little lapdog as spirited as ever.”

“Loki,” Thor warns, and when Loki jerks in place, Phil realises Loki’s hands are bound behind him and that Thor is holding onto them. “Do not-”

“Do not what, dear brother?” he snaps. “I’m merely saying hello.” He smiles at Clint and then tips his head. “You must forgive me - I didn’t bring any scraps.”

 

The dog keeps growling and Phil focuses on the lead, taut in his hand. 

 

“Are we really going to do a whole _thing_?” Tony says from one side. “We all know what the deal is here buddy, just wave your magic stick and fix this. And then fuck off back to whatever rock they keep you under.”

Loki shoots Tony a look that shows exactly what he thinks of him and Thor rolls his eyes behind him. “Enough of this, Loki. We have discussed this and you agreed to help.”

 

“Of course,” he replies, as if he’s being reasonable and everyone else is being rude and pushy. “But my ‘magic stick’-” he spares a glance at Phil, “well, I’m not allowed to use sharp objects anymore.”

He rolls his eyes when Thor jostles him again. 

 

“Bring me the dog,” he says loftily. “And you’ll have to unhand me, dear brother,” he directs at Thor, who grumbles and unties his hands. Phil’s aware of everyone around him shifting their stances to be in position should he try anything, and is glad of the warm weight of his sidearm in its holster. Clint’s still straining at his leash.

 

Phil takes a deep breath and walks forward til Clint’s less than a foot away from where Loki is standing. He stays silent as he watches Loki crouch down and look Clint over. He slowly lowers one hand to touch the dog’s head, and Phil’s surprised that he doesn’t jump up or nip at him, instead quietly relaxing as he had with Thor. It’s worse, somehow. 

 

“I can change him back,” Loki says breezily as he stands. 

“What are you waiting for? Get on with it,” says Steve from off to Phil’s left. 

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Clint is sitting patiently by Phil’s feet now instead of straining against the leash, and it’s terrifying. Phil thinks back on the footage from when he’d first been taken, all the fight and life gone out of him, and he supresses a shudder. 

 

Loki’s head is yanked back as Thor pulls at his hair. “You owe him a debt,” he reminds him.

“I am merely a mage, these days,” he protests. “I cannot do this alone.” 

“What do you need?” Phil asks, and he’s surprised at how evenly his voice comes out. He sounds so reasonable about it when he feels anything but. 

 

Loki grins at him, a wide curved slit of teeth. “Love, of course,” he replies simply. “It’s in all your fairytales, isn’t it?” He glances at Natasha who makes no reaction. 

“What does that mean?” Steve huffs. They’re all getting a little tired of the Loki Show.

 

“The princess falls asleep for a hundred years, she eats a poisoned apple, she’ll die when the sun rises… Oh come on, you people really are such unimaginative dullards.”

No one says anything and eventually Loki relents. He fixes a gleeful eye on Phil before raising his eyebrows. “If there’s anything I learned from the time we spent together last time, it’s what our dear archer wants most of all.”

 

Phil breaks his gaze and looks away. “Is that what it takes? You want me for him?” He doesn’t even register the quiet gasps behind him, he doesn’t care anymore. Clint won’t be happy if - when - he’s back to find out that everyone knows but he’ll be back. Phil finds he doesn’t care about anything else.

 

Loki laughs, high and bright, though the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. “Oh goodness no, what use have I for a man so easily outwitted, and so old at that? If I wanted one of you for my own I wouldn’t choose you. Perhaps your firey assassin… I would enjoy breaking - “

“You forget yourself,” Thor growls at the same time as Steve steps in front of Natasha. He gets elbowed sharply in the ribs for his trouble. 

 

“So what do you want? I’ll kiss him,” Phil says desperately, ignoring everything else because he doesn’t care. He kneels down and puts his arms around Clint. 

“No no… come now. It can’t be that simple. You must _confess_ your love. Shout it from the rooftops! Express it for everyone to know. For fate herself to see it.”

“Well I - I do love him,” Phil says in desperation. He’s never said as much to Clint nor anyone else, but goddammit it’s the truth and if that’s what it takes. If Clint takes one look at him and runs when this is all over… that’s a risk Phil’s willing to take. A risk he _has_ to take. 

 

 

“It’s in all your fairy tales, isn’t it?” Loki says, spreading his hands. “The sweet little princess brought low by forces unknown, saved by true love…”

 

Phil doesn’t even think about it. He doesn’t have to. Half of SHIELD is watching them and it’ll change everything, but Phil doesn’t care.

“I love him,” he says quietly. “I don’t know if he loves me but I love him.”

 

He turns to the people gathered around and says, “I’ve loved Clint Barton for a long time.” He feels like he needs to add something, some explanation, but there’s nothing. He shrugs and says it again. “I love him.” 

He turns his back on the various expressions of either surprise or sad smiles and Loki’s grinning slyly. “Is that it?” Phil asks. “I kiss him and this… He’ll come back?” He knows there’s desperation in his voice but there’s nothing for it. All the things he’s imagined saying and doing to the man in front of him and none of it matters now, not when he could hold the key to Clint’s release. Phil doesn’t trust Loki even slightly but he’s their best hope.

Loki shrugs. “You might as well try.”

 

Phil kneels and pulls Clint close to kiss the top of his head. Loki snaps his fingers and then the dog is gone and Clint’s in his place, naked and half crumpled in Phil’s lap, the leash and collar loose in Phil’s hand.

 

People around them are gasping and clapping and then there’s Pepper with a blanket, but all Phil can take in is the warm solidity of Clint under his hands and then his lips on his, hot tears rolling into the kiss that turns it salty and wet. Phil rocks him and Clint puts his arms around Phil to pull him closer still, and the world stops its spinning at last.

“I’m sorry,” Phil whispers. “I didn’t-”

“I love you too,” Clint replies, voice tiny and hoarse from disuse. They pull apart enough to look into each others eyes and he looks scared, as if the confession is anything other than the most wonderful thing he could ever say. Phil has to kiss him again to stop that expression from even existing. 

 

Phil has no idea how long they’re there, crumpled together on the helipad, but eventually, Tony clears his throat behind them. “Shawarma?”

 

-

 

Bruce and a delegation from SHIELD medical check Clint over and much as when Clint had first been turned into his dog-self, they don’t have much to say. Clint’s the same as he ever was, apparently. Phil hovers close by and Clint reaches for him whenever there isn’t someone trying to draw blood or measure him and Phil happily obliges. As grand declarations of personal information go, Phil can’t be too upset at this one even if it does rather loudly smash through a good portion of his quietly inscrutable shell.

 

Eventually they do go out for dinner, though not to shawarma but Clint’s favourite; a rather greasy Chinese establishment which Phil’s pretty sure would ban Clint from their $8.99 All U Can Eat buffet if it didn’t draw the crowd that it does. 

Phil’s seen Clint eat a lot before but never quite this much. Apparently being transformed by still-unknown forces really increases the appetite.

 

Everyone politely treads around The Declaration, even Tony, though that’s mostly because of Pepper’s soothing presence. She really is amazing. It’s Clint that eventually broaches the subject in as understated a way as he can, proclaiming through a mouthful of char siew pork bun that it’s only fair everyone knows he loves Phil back but whatever, it’s no big deal. He’s still holding onto Phil’s hand under the table and he brings it up to show everyone before looking fondly at Phil. “Seriously,” he says, and then he looks back at the heap of food on his plate shyly. Phil squeezes his hand and grins before boldly leaning closer to press a chaste kiss to Clint’s cheek. He’s not ever been one for PDAs but he can’t resist, and he can’t even bring himself to mind when Clint lets go of his hand to wrap his arm around and hug him closer still. Phil hugs back tightly, still not quite ready to believe Clint’s back and real and here and having to keep a hold of him to make sure. 

 

Everyone’s staring at them of course, so when they finally do break apart and smile shyly at each other, he waves a hand to the table and says, “Ok shows over.”

Tony’s staring and Phil can sense the death squeeze Pepper’s probably giving some part of his anatomy to stop him from saying something, and Steve’s grinning like a loon. Bruce looks pleased, too, always able to sense when something’s being unsaid and clearly happy that a secret is out in the open. Natasha makes a happy sigh. “Well I for one am glad you can finally stop being like lovesick puppies. Excuse the pun.” She sticks her tongue out at Clint when he frowns at her. Steve looks very interested in the variety of brown things on his plate all of a sudden and Phil almost says something. But their secret isn’t his to tell. He supposes they do make a pretty couple, and Phil’s paternal feeling towards Natasha is slightly soothed by the thought that Steve Rogers is maybe, just _about_ good enough for her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Dunicha


End file.
